


just to sit outside your door

by Singofsolace



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, First Time, Fluff, Kitchen Sex, Light Dom/sub, Praise Kink, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2020-11-26 05:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20925137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singofsolace/pseuds/Singofsolace
Summary: Zelda Spellman and Mary Wardwell plan to go to dinner and a movie together, but will their nerves get the best of them? Can these two ladies put the pain and uncertainty of the past aside for long enough to enjoy their first date?





	1. Slithered Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goldstan_squeemander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldstan_squeemander/gifts).

> The title is borrowed from Hozier's "From Eden": "I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door."
> 
> This fanfic takes place almost a year after Sabrina's Dark Baptism, so about six months after the end of Part II. Mary Wardwell was brought back to life by Lilith (so she is not currently dead/possessed in this fic) and Zelda Spellman is the High Priestess of the Church of Lilith as well as Headmistress of the Academy. 
> 
> CW: mentions of post-traumatic stress and homophobia. 
> 
> Please let me know if you'd like a second chapter, in which Mary and Zelda would eat some pie, drink some cider, and perhaps... do what lovers do ;)

Looking into the vanity mirror, Zelda nearly spat at her nervous reflection. Shattering the mirror would be far more satisfying, but she didn’t want Hilda to come running. It would be just like Hilda to overreact to a little broken glass. Besides, it wasn’t her appearance she was upset about; it was her anxiety.

Why couldn’t she get her heart to stop racing and her stomach to settle? She was going on a date, not riding into battle. Zelda didn’t appreciate being made to feel like a foolish schoolgirl, especially when three centuries had come and gone, taking her girlhood with them.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this way—silly with nerves and half in love already. Indeed, she hadn’t had a real “date” since before Sabrina was born. She had had dalliances, of course—she had even been married, for heaven’s sake—but Zelda quickly severed the thought of Faustus and her honeymoon before it could linger.

She enjoyed dalliances… yes. Witches had no qualms about frequent sexual activity with multiple people. But this often meant skipping over the “dating” process and jumping right into bed. But mortal liaisons were different. Zelda hadn’t tangled with a mortal (and a Catholic one at that) in decades; her brother had paid the ultimate price for doing so, and she had no intention of following him into a watery grave.

A date. She had a _date._

Zelda slammed the brush she’d been anxiously running through her hair down with a huff. This was ridiculous. She needed to pull herself together. Zelda brought her cigarette to her lips, keeping the smoke in her lungs for a few seconds before breathing it out, ever so slowly. She watched her reflection in the mirror be distorted by the curls of smoke, longing for a drink to make her nerves disappear, since clearly the nicotine wasn’t doing the job. But what would Mary Wardwell think if she arrived at the diner with whiskey on her breath? She wanted to make a good impression, and showing up drunk to a date seemed a quick way to ruin everything.

A knock on her door made Zelda jump in her seat, causing the ashes on the end of her cigarette to fall onto her dress. She cursed, brushing them angrily away, before saying, “Come in.”

Hilda stepped into the room, a wide smile on her face. “Getting ready, are we?”

“It’s no business of yours,” said Zelda, harshly, and she immediately felt a twinge of guilt as Hilda’s face fell.

“Well… I think it’s lovely that you’re taking Miss Wardwell out to dinner and a horror film. It’ll do you some good to get out of the house.”

Hilda had been badgering Zelda for months about overworking herself, between her role as High Priestess and her duties at the Academy. Zelda was tired of all the hovering, but hadn’t managed to put an end to it yet.

“The film was her idea. I have no desire to see the occult mocked for two hours in a fleapit—”

“The Paramount is _hardly_ a fleapit—” 

“—but Sabrina tells me that Miss Wardwell enjoys such things, especially at this time of the year.”

Hilda looked at her with softness in her eyes, a knowing grin spreading her lips once more. The urge to strike that look right off her sister’s face was extreme, but Zelda quelled it. She was trying so hard to be better these days, to respect her sister and treat her well, but Lilith forgive her, old habits died hard.

“Well, I think it’s wonderful that you’re dating again after…” Hilda’s voice trailed off, leaving Zelda’s disastrous marriage and the Caligari spell unspoken, “…and Lilith knows, Mary Wardwell deserves some happiness, too.”

Zelda nodded slowly in agreement. “I’ll admit, I’ve worried about her ever since Lilith brought her back to life. Sabrina says she’s having trouble…adjusting.”

“Who could blame her, the poor dear?” said Hilda, shaking her head sadly. “Death leaves its claws in you, no matter who you are, or how many times you’re brought back.”

Zelda felt her stomach twist at that, remembering all of the times she’d killed her sister for trivial reasons. Zelda turned away from the door, back to her vanity mirror, trying to quell the shame climbing up her throat. Even if she spent the rest of her life atoning, she didn’t think she could ever make it up to Hilda. After all, Zelda knew what it was like to wake up in the Cain Pit, choking on dirt and worms; Edward had killed her for sport in much the same way that she killed Hilda. But the difference was that Edward had never felt remorse, and always insisted it was for her own good.

Zelda’s whole body flinched when soft hands unexpectedly came down on her shoulders. Hilda immediately removed them, a look of apology on her face. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I only wanted to say, for what it’s worth… I forgive you.”

Zelda didn’t want forgiveness—not when it felt like equal parts pity. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

Hilda nodded, meeting her eyes in the reflection of the mirror. “Of course not. Well, I wish you the best of luck with your date. I’ll tell Cerberus to keep an eye on you.”

Zelda groaned. “I don’t want that carny incubus hovering over Mary’s shoulder!”

“Well, then, you shouldn’t have made a reservation at his establishment!”

“I didn’t,” said Zelda, sighing. “That was Mary’s idea, too.”

“Sounds like this date was planned entirely by Mary—and here I thought my big sister was always the dominant one in her relationships.” Hilda gave her a saucy wink.

Zelda longed for a shovel to shut her sister up. “As it happens, Mary asked _me_ out to dinner. We ran into each other—quite literally—at the Farmer’s Market on Sunday. When we collided, the pumpkin pie she was holding got all over my dress. I offered to buy her another pie, since there was no saving it, and then _she _offered to take _me_ to dinner to apologize for ruining my dress…”

“How romantic,” said Hilda, and though Zelda’s first instinct was to think that she was being teased, she looked up to see complete honesty in Hilda’s eyes.

“I thought so,” admitted Zelda, taking one last puff of her cigarette before stamping it out. “Well, I better get going. I wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.”

With that, Zelda bustled passed her sister, slamming the door in response to Hilda’s final shout: “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do—at least not on the first date!”

* * *

Mary Wardwell was nervous. No, she was beyond nervous; she was _terrified_. What had possessed her to ask a woman as beautiful as Zelda out on a date? Surely, Miss Spellman would never have even given her the time of day, if they hadn’t accidentally collided? Mary was setting herself up for rejection, and at her age, she should know better.

Dr. Cerberus kept giving her pitying looks whenever he passed her table. Really, could he be any ruder? She had arrived fifteen minutes early (for fear of being late) and was sipping a cup of tea as slowly as she could, to avoid ordering dinner without Zelda. Cerberus must've thought she had been stood up, because he kept offering to make her a milkshake—on the house—instead. She didn’t know why he should be so invested in her date; it wasn’t as if they knew each other particularly well. But men were strange beasts, and she had long since stopped trying to understand them.

Mary let out a sigh of relief when she heard the bells on the door jingle, but the relief was quickly replaced with annoyance when she realized it was a group of rowdy teenagers that had just entered the diner. She recognized at least two of them as her students, which was the difficulty of being the sole United States History teacher in the town.

She hoped they wouldn’t make trouble. She was well aware that Greendale was a small town, with… _traditional _values. Seeing their teacher on a date with another woman would certainly be cause for a crass word or two, especially from Billy Marlin and Carl Tapper.

Just as Mary was debating claiming that she had fallen ill and leaving the restaurant, the door opened again to reveal Zelda Spellman, dressed immaculately in a tightly-fitted black number that had Mary’s eyes going wide. She felt underdressed in her skirt, blouse, and sweater, though it was one of her favorite outfits, and it did a wonderful job of keeping out the October chill.

“Miss Wardwell,” said Zelda, as she made her way to the booth. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long?”

“N-not at all,” said Mary, cursing the slight shake of her voice.

Just then, Cerberus appeared beside Zelda, as if from thin air. Mary watched in alarm as the woman seemed to jump right out of her skin at his sudden presence.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you—though it is the season for it, isn’t it?” said Cerberus, chuckling. “Will you have a seat, Miss Spellman? Then I can take your order. Unless you need time to look over the menu?”

Zelda recovered from her shock rather slowly as she eased herself into the seat across from Mary. “That isn’t necessary. I always order the same thing. What about you, Miss Wardwell?”

“Mary,” she corrected, blushing as she did. “You can call me Mary.”

“Well then, Mary, what would you like to eat?” said Zelda, moving as far away from Cerberus as she could when he bent over the table to fill their water glasses.

“I think I’ll have the shepherd’s pie. It’s just the kind of food you crave on a cold fall evening such as this.”

“As long as I don’t wind up _wearing _the pie this time,” mused Zelda playfully, before speaking sharply to Cerberus. “I’ll have the French onion soup.”

Cerberus jotted their orders down, but didn’t walk away, as if he was waiting for something else.

“Yes…?” said Mary, but Cerberus kept looking expectantly at Zelda.

“And what would you like for dinner, Miss Spellman?” Cerberus explained, appearing less sure of himself by the second.

“I said French onion soup,” Zelda repeated. “Have you gone deaf?”

“We serve soup as an appetizer, not as an entrée. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a sandwich with it?”

“Do I look like the kind of person who eats a sandwich for dinner?” asked Zelda scathingly.

Cerberus looked torn between insisting she eat more and letting the matter drop. Mary found this curious. What was it to him if Zelda wanted a light dinner? Mary watched with interest as Cerberus seemed to tuck his tail between his legs as he headed back to the kitchen.

“What was that about?” said Mary, eyeing Zelda as she unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap.

“Nothing,” said Zelda, though she still looked a bit tightly wound. “Dr. Cerberus is dating my sister. He’s taken to pestering me about things whenever she’s not around to do it herself.”

Mary nodded, thinking she had seen Hilda in the store more and more often lately. “That’s…sweet.”

Zelda scoffed. “I find it infuriating, not sweet. It’s no business of his how much I do or do not eat.”

Mary’s eyes raked over Zelda, then, taking note of her appearance beyond the mouth-wateringly tight dress. Now that her attention had been drawn to the subject of eating, Mary noticed that Zelda Spellman seemed to have lost a significant amount of weight since the first time they had met. She’d never been especially heavy, but Mary remembered Zelda looking far healthier only a year ago. She wondered if something had happened during the large section of her memory that she had lost...?

Mary hated thinking about her missing time. She’d been to every neurologist she could find, but all of them said the same thing: she must’ve suffered some sort of physical or mental trauma, and her memory would either come back on its own, slowly, over time, or it wouldn’t come back at all.

“Are you alright, Mary?” said Zelda, reaching across the table to cover Mary’s hand with her own, but stopping just before their skin made contact.

“Yes, of course,” said Mary, shaking herself. “I was just thinking about all that’s happened since last October.”

Zelda seemed to shift anxiously in her seat, which made Mary slightly uneasy. Everyone had been uncomfortable and shifty-eyed around her since she woke up from her…daze…or whatever it was.

“Is your memory starting to come back?” said Zelda as she fiddled with the napkin on her lap.

“No,” said Mary, feeling the weight of the word as if it were an elephant sitting on her chest. “But I have been having terribly vivid… dreams.”

She barely managed to stop herself from saying, “nightmares,” because she didn’t want the date to take such a dark turn.

“What kind of dreams?” said Zelda, her eyes wide. Mary started to worry she had said too much; she hadn’t intended to worry her.

“They’re nothing. Just silly tricks of the brain. I never knew I had such a wild imagination.”

Zelda nodded slowly, crossing her arms as if she had caught a chill. “It’s a shame we don’t know more about the inner workings of the brain.”

“Well, I was never much good at science. History has always been my subject,” said Mary, trying to steer the conversation back into neutral territory. “Did you have a favorite subject in school?”

Zelda was quiet for a long time, which confused Mary. Surely, one’s favorite subject wasn’t a difficult question to answer…?

“I suppose you could say that science was my best subject. Medicine, rather. I don’t know if you know this, but I was a practicing midwife for…decades. I’ve birthed hundreds of babies.”

Mary was incredibly impressed by this discovery. She’d thought that Zelda had only ever worked at the mortuary. “I had no idea. That must’ve been a terribly stressful job, what with the number of things that can go wrong…?”

Zelda smiled, though it looked a bit forced. “Yes, well, I was uncommonly lucky; I never lost a babe, though I did lose a mother or two.”

“How awful,” said Mary, but the rest of her words were interrupted by the food arriving.

“Shepherd’s pie and French onion soup for the lovely ladies,” said Cerberus, placing their food down before them. “Would you like another cup of tea, Mary? And you, Zeld—I mean, Miss Spellman?”

“A spot of tea would do nicely, thank you,” said Zelda, though Mary nearly laughed at how imperious she sounded, as if she were ordering an execution rather than a kettle to be boiled.

“Right—I’ll just—get started on that tea, then,” said Cerberus, turning on his heel and practically_ running_ towards the kitchen.

“Why is he so afraid of you?” asked Mary, though she hadn’t meant to say the words out loud.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” said Zelda, smirking as she brought a spoonful of soup to her lips. “Though I imagine it has something to do with the fact that if he ever hurts my sister, I’ll skin him alive.”

Mary nearly choked on her shepherd’s pie, somehow knowing that this wasn’t hyperbole. Unbidden, a disturbing scene from one of her nightmares flashed across her mind’s eye. She was pulling out her intestines—slowly, carefully—then one of her ribs. The pain was excruciating; unbearable, but also satisfying, as if her body weren’t her own—

“Mary?” said Zelda, her hand actually breaching the distance this time and taking Mary’s in her own. “Are you alright? I was only kidding.”

Mary took a deep breath. They were only dreams. “I know you were. I just lost focus for a moment.”

Zelda’s face was pinched with concern. Her hand was warm and comforting over her own.

“Are you sure? You look pale as a ghost.”

“Nothing a fresh cup of tea won’t fix,” said Mary, nodding to Cerberus, who returned with the tea and left immediately after putting it down, not saying a word.

The rest of the dinner passed relatively uneventfully, both women making a point to steer away from any topic that could be construed as heavy. Mary found that Zelda could be deceptively funny, _especially_ when she wasn’t trying to be. They found that they had a lot in common, though Mary suspected from time to time that Zelda might be lying about their shared interests. For instance, at the mention of the movie they would be seeing, and how they really must get going, if they wanted to get good seats, Zelda was rather obviously faking her enthusiasm as they gathered their belongings.

“We don’t have to see a movie, if you’d rather we didn’t,” said Mary.

“Nonsense. I love the pictures,” said Zelda, waving a hand before slipping it into her glove.

Mary chuckled. “You’re not a very convincing liar. At least on this subject.”

Zelda looked almost embarrassed as she said, “I’m not lying. I’m sure I’d enjoy seeing a movie with you.”

“But if we decided to do something else, you wouldn’t say no?” Mary pressed, not letting the subject drop. 

Mary could feel Zelda’s eyes rake over her. It made her feel terribly hot under her sweater and scarf, but in a pleasant, exhilarating way.

“That would depend entirely on the nature of the ‘something else’ you had in mind,” Zelda said, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Mary was about to offer an idea when she heard a whistle. Furious, she whipped her head around to see the group of boys actively pretending to mind their own business, when it was clear they were the origin of the whistle.

“That was terribly rude,” said Zelda, stalking towards the boys, but Mary held up a hand to stop her.

“They aren’t worth your breath. Why don’t we go back to my cottage? I still have half of a pumpkin pie, and some delicious apple cider.”

Zelda gave one last glare at the teenagers before turning all of her attention to Mary. “That sounds delicious. But are you sure you won’t be disappointed…?”

Mary could sense that Zelda wasn’t just talking about the movie.

“I _know_ I won’t be,” said Mary, and with that, she linked her arm through Zelda’s elbow and ushered her out into the brisk autumn night.


	2. From Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zelda Spellman and Mary Wardwell eat pie, drink cider, and do what lovers do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter of this fic was written before Part Three aired, so as far as this fic is concerned, Part Three never happened. Mary Wardwell never shot Zelda, and there was no creepy virginity plot. Imagine that the last canon thing you saw (in Part Two) was Miss Wardwell being brought back to life, saying she was absolutely starving, and couldn't remember a thing since seeing Night of the Living Dead.
> 
> The lyrics are borrowed from Hozier's song, "From Eden."
> 
> This new chapter was commissioned by @goldstan-squeemander. I hope you like it! If anyone else would like to commission work from me, or would just like to show their support, check out my kofi: https://ko-fi.com/singofsolace

The drive back to Mary’s cottage was longer than Zelda would expect—she had no idea Mary lived so far away from Greendale’s Main Street. Zelda watched with increasing uneasiness as they turned off of a main road and onto a narrow dirt path that hardly seemed wide enough to allow the car to travel through, what with the trees on either side occasionally tapping against Zelda’s window.

“I’m glad you suggested skipping the movie. I think some hot, spiced cider and a piece of pie by the fire will be just the ticket,” said Mary as the car wound its way through the forest.

“Yes, some cider would be lovely,” mused Zelda, squinting her eyes as she realized that she truly had no idea where they were going. She’d never traveled this road before, and having lived in Greendale on-and-off over the course of three centuries, this lack of recognition worried her. Unbidden, anxiety clenched its cold fist around Zelda’s heart; had she made a grave miscalculation of the Wardwell woman’s intentions? What if Mary wasn’t taking her home at all? What if this date had all been a ruse to get her alone and vulnerable, and consequently easier to kill?

Zelda must’ve gotten complacent in her old age; her younger self would never have compromised her safety so easily! Her father had warned her that this would happen—that one day, Zelda’s foolish and trusting nature would get her killed, and that she would only have herself to blame when it did.

“Do you have a favorite radio station?” said Mary, looking at Zelda out of the corner of her eye. “We can listen to whatever you like, if your taste in music is different…?”

Zelda had hardly been listening to the folk-rock music playing in the background. In fact, she was surprised to discover that she actually recognized the song.

_There's something tragic about you_

_Something so magic about you_

_Don't you agree?_

“This is fine.”

Zelda’s breathing quickened as rain began to fall against the windshield, making visibility terribly low. Mary Wardwell was a competent driver, sure enough, and seemed to know the twisting roads like the back of her hand, but the rain posed a new problem: up until this point, Zelda had been trying to memorize the route, in case she couldn’t rely on her magic to get her out of whatever situation she’d unknowingly entered, and needed to get back to town on her own, but her sense of direction had vanished the moment visibility went down to almost zero.

_There's something lonesome about you_

_Something so wholesome about you_

_Get closer to me_

“Look at that rain!” said Mary, her eyes wide with shock. Zelda had already been looking, and hardly needed to be prompted to do so. She made a sound somewhere deep in the back of her throat to acknowledge that Mary had spoken, but did nothing more to attempt to carry on a conversation.

Mary didn’t seem to mind, as she was focusing on getting them back to… wherever it was she was taking them. She turned on the high beam headlights, but this did nothing to help visibility; rather, it only made the drops of rain hammering the car seem all the more hazardous.

Zelda hadn’t the faintest idea what Mary Wardwell could possibly gain by leading her so deep into the woods. She’d heard whisperings of Mary having taken far too keen an interest in the Greendale 13 since she was a girl, but Zelda had never thought it a great enough threat to risk exposure by placing her in a coma for talking about witches.

_Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago_

_Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword_

_Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know_

_I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door_

“Are you alright, Zelda? You’re awfully quiet,” said Mary, her voice soft and deep with worry.

“Of course I’m alright,” Zelda said, letting out a silent sigh of relief as she saw the shadow of a quaint cottage emerge almost from thin air. “I just didn’t expect it to rain, that’s all.”

“It caught me by surprise as well!” said Mary, pulling up in front of the cottage and killing the engine. “If I had known, I would’ve worn a rain jacket.”

Upon hearing those words, Zelda’s eyes were immediately drawn to Mary’s outfit. Though she knew it was rude to ogle someone in such a way, Zelda couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate the curves of Mary’s body beneath her wool sweater and tartan skirt.

Mary cleared her throat, prompting Zelda’s face to flush with heat. When she eventually met Mary’s eyes, she was amused to see that the teacher was blushing as well.

“We really ought to head inside before the storm gets any worse,” said Mary, placing a hand on the door handle. “Are you ready to make a run for it?”

“Make a run for it?” Zelda repeated, confused, but Mary was already launching herself out of the car and towards the cottage.

There was nothing to do but follow.

* * *

It had been a long time since Mary Wardwell had had company, let alone company as beautiful and mysterious as Zelda Spellman. In her youth, she’d explored her attraction to the fairer sex as widely and _discreetly _as she could in a town as small as Greendale, knowing full well that its citizens could be unforgiving in their judgment of women who did not fit into the proper boxes.

Her engagement to Adam three years ago had been more of a cover than anything else; people had begun to talk incessantly about her spinsterhood, so she decided to find the kindest, gentlest man she could, who had a job that would ensure they would be apart more often than they would be together. Her wish to remain “pure” until the wedding was really just another tactic to delay the consummation of their relationship.

The fact that Adam had recently broken off their engagement—in a letter, no less, in which he sounded not at all like himself—would be a secret for herself and herself alone.

Mary paused in cutting the pie as the image of Adam’s head on a plate flashed across her eyes. Jumping back in alarm, Mary dropped the knife. It clattered down onto the pie plate as the graphic image overwhelmed her senses. It was a scene from one of her nightmares, and despite knowing that her ex-fiancé was alive and well in Africa, it did nothing to calm her down as she felt the intense need to vomit.

Zelda was at her side in an instant. “Is something wrong? Do you need help?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” said Mary, shaking her head to clear it of its darkness. Picking up the knife once more, she gave Zelda a wan smile. “How big of a slice would you like?”

Zelda’s eyes shifted down and away as she leaned her hip against the kitchen counter. Mary couldn’t help the way her own eyes roved across the woman’s tight black dress, which clung to her body even more now that it was soaking wet from running to the door in the heavy rain.

“I’m not hungry,” said Zelda, purposefully letting her eyes drop to Mary’s lips in a decidedly unsubtle way. “At least, not for pie.”

The line of sexual tension grew taut between them, but it was summarily cut by Zelda’s body being overtaken by an almighty shiver.

“Goodness! You’re freezing!” said Mary, immediately taking Zelda’s icy hands in her own and trying to warm them up. “Come sit by the fire while I pour the cider. Then I’ll go and fetch you some dry clothes to wear.”

Zelda allowed herself to be led back to the armchair closest to the fire. Once Mary had more or less _pushed_ the stubborn woman into it, Zelda grabbed her hand before Mary could turn and walk away. For a moment time was suspended, both women staring deeply into each other’s eyes as Zelda caressed the back of Mary’s hand with her thumb.

Finally, Zelda said, “I don’t mean to be… forward, but I’d rather hoped that we would… that I wouldn’t _need _clothes for what we’d be doing tonight.”

Mary’s whole body flooded with heat. She rarely kept company with people who were so direct about their desires, having grown up in a strict, religious household. Taking her hand away, Mary stuttered, “H-how about that drink?”

Running to the stove, if only to delay having to properly reply to that rather explicit proposition, Mary lifted the spiced cider off of the burner and poured it into two mugs. She then placed them on a tea tray, next to the pie, and returned to Zelda by the fire.

“I hope you like it,” said Mary, passing one of the mugs to Zelda. “It should help you warm up, since the fire doesn’t seem to be working.”

Zelda took the mug into her hands with a grateful smile. “Really, you don’t have to fuss over me. My clothes will be dry in no time, sitting so close to the heat.”

“Are you sure you don’t want any pie?” said Mary, taking a slice for herself. “Ever since I woke up from my… fugue state… I’ve been positively _famished_.”

Zelda’s eyes softened as Mary took a large bite of the pie. “Thank you, but no. If we’re being perfectly honest with one another, I’ve also had a difficult year. I’m afraid my appetite, which was never very robust, has disappeared altogether after…”

Mary felt as though the air had suddenly rushed out of the room. Zelda was staring straight ahead, into the fire. Mary realized she wanted to know everything there was to know about Zelda Spellman, but didn’t want to seem like she was being nosey. It was unlikely the woman intended to finish her sentence, but Mary’s curiosity eventually won out over politeness.

“After what?” prodded Mary gently.

Zelda shivered again before taking a fortifying sip of her drink. “I got married last spring.”

Mary nearly spit out a mouthful of pie upon hearing that. “You’re… you’re _married_?”

When Zelda shook her head, a wave of relief crashed over Mary. She wasn’t one to trifle with married women, no matter how enchanting they were.

“It didn’t last very long. My husband did something very… _cruel _to me on our honeymoon, and ever since… we’ve been separated. I’d like to say divorced, but there’s no such thing in my Church.”

Mary put her plate down. She found, for the very first time in months, that she was no longer hungry. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Men can be unbearably cruel when they want to be.”

“I’d rather not dwell on it.”

The words were spoken with frosty finality. Mary knew better than to press for more.

“Of course,” said Mary eventually, before an unpleasant but important thought occurred to her. “Does… does that mean that you’re still legally married?”

Zelda’s eyes clouded over. “We were never _legally_ married to begin with; there is no marriage license. My family and I have no use for the state government and their meaningless pieces of paper.”

Mary took up her cider, if only to have something to do with her hands. The Spellmans were certainly an unusual family. “So, you were married by a priest or… an _officiant_, but never filled out the proper legal paperwork? Then, if it’s any consolation, in the eyes of the law, I suppose you could say it never happened.”

Zelda sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It isn’t a consolation, but I appreciate the sentiment, nevertheless.”

Mary immediately regretted prying so far into Zelda’s business. Clearly, the topic was distressing her. A change of subject was in order.

“How do you like the cider?” asked Mary, lifting her mug. “I think I might’ve made it a tad too strong.”

“I prefer my drinks strong,” said Zelda, polishing off her own. If her fingers trembled, Mary didn’t point it out. “Speaking of which, I would very much like another.”

“Of course,” said Mary, standing up to take her guest’s glass, but Zelda had stood as well, as if intending to get it herself.

“Why don’t_ I_ refresh the drinks,” said Zelda, sauntering into Mary’s space to pluck her half-finished cider right out of her hands, “and _you _take that tea tray to the sink, so that when we’re done with our hot cider, we can move on to… other activities… knowing everything is clean and put away?”

By the time Mary had recovered enough from those words to move again, Zelda was already in the kitchen, lifting the pot of cider. Her legs suddenly felt like jelly as Mary followed after her, placing the tray on the counter and her plate in the sink. As she washed the plate, she felt a presence hovering behind her.

“You have such lovely, strong hands,” Zelda mused as Mary scrubbed the plate far harder than necessary. Keeping her head down, Mary refused to let Zelda see how red her face had become from the compliment.

Mary heard the clink of two mugs being placed on the counter before a dishtowel appeared to her left, held out by her companion in a way that seemed to serve as an apology of its own before the words themselves came.

“I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable with my… overtures. It isn’t right for me to keep trying when you’ve already made it clear that you don’t want to take this any further. Let me dry the plate, and then we’ll drink the rest of the cider, and when we’re done, I can call a taxi to pick me up.”

Mary’s mouth moved wordlessly as Zelda reached out to take the plate from her sudsy hands. While Zelda dried the plate, Mary attempted to think of something she could say to explain to Zelda that it wasn’t that she didn’t _want_ to, it was just that she still couldn’t believe someone as gorgeous as Zelda Spellman had even given her the time of the day in the first place.

Mary watched with a quickening heartbeat as Zelda began to open the cabinets, looking for the proper place to put the plate away. When she finally found the right one, Zelda had to go up on her tip-toes in order to reach the shelf. A wave of desire unlike any other crashed over Mary at the elegant arch of Zelda’s back as she stretched and stretched, only to nearly drop the plate when Mary pressed against her from behind.

“Mary?!” Zelda said in surprise, just managing to tip the plate onto its stack at the last moment before landing back on her heels.

Suddenly confident, Mary grabbed Zelda’s hips and turned her around, so that they were facing one another. Zelda looked like she was torn between confusion and satisfaction. When she opened her mouth, surely to make some cocky comment about being irresistible, Mary sealed their mouths together in a passionate kiss.

* * *

In three centuries of life, Zelda Spellman had very seldom experienced rejection. She rarely had to go looking for a sexual partner; she need only step into the Academy, or the Church of Night, and she would find any number of willing witches and warlocks to give her pleasure.

So, when Mary Wardwell failed to respond to yet another attempt at seduction, Zelda was ready to give up. Clearly, her wiles were wasted on this woman. She’d misread the situation again and again—all that was left was to cut her losses and call it a night.

That was why she was so incredibly shocked to feel a warm body press up against her as she returned the plate back to its proper place in the cabinet. The strong hands she’d just noticed in the sink were suddenly on her hips, forcing her to turn around so that she and Mary were facing one another. Zelda was used to having dominant partners, but when a tongue was suddenly and unexpectedly sliding its way into her mouth, she couldn’t help but moan at how surprisingly good and _right_ it felt.

_It’s always the quiet ones_, Zelda thought as Mary shoved a leg between Zelda’s thighs and grabbed a fistful of her red hair. Her core was already embarrassingly wet at how quickly the tables had turned. She was happy to let Mary have her way with her against the kitchen counter, if that was where this was leading, but she was still a bit dazed by the thought that shy, mousy Mary Wardwell’s fingers were already tugging her dress up her thighs.

Breathless, Zelda broke the kiss, her eyes searching Mary’s to make sure it truly was the school teacher, and not Lilith, in front of her. But Zelda ending the kiss so abruptly brought the endearing shyness right back into Mary’s eyes. It definitely wasn’t the demoness here with her, Zelda concluded, letting out a grateful sigh that she hadn’t been tricked.

“Too fast?” said Mary, stroking Zelda’s thigh with one hand while the other combed through her hair.

“Not fast enough,” said Zelda, using her own hands to try and lift Mary’s sweater over her head, but her wrists were suddenly caught in a vice-like grip.

“No,” Mary said, softening her sharp command with a kiss to the inside of each of Zelda’s wrists. “I want you to put your hands on the counter and _don’t move them_.”

Zelda obeyed immediately, placing her hands behind her against the granite countertop. It was a slightly uncomfortable position, but she trusted that Mary had plans to make her forget any and all physical discomfort.

“Good girl,” said Mary, smirking as she got down on her knees and slipped her hands under Zelda’s dress.

Zelda tried to keep herself from moaning at the praise, but from the way Mary’s eyes were bright with mischief, she hadn’t been successful.

“Do you like it when I praise you?” said Mary as she ran her fingers over the gusset of her underwear, which was already soaked with wetness that couldn’t be blamed on the rain.

Zelda’s only reply was a sharp intake of breath as Mary dragged the underwear down her legs, giving a kiss to each thigh as she did.

“Step out,” instructed Mary. Zelda did, letting out a noise of frustration when Mary stopped her ministrations to simply look at her. “You’re beautiful.”

“Get on with it,” said Zelda, her frustration mounting as she practically _ached_ with want.

Mary smacked Zelda’s inner thigh, causing her to let out an undignified yelp. It didn’t hurt, but it was yet again something so forward and presumptuous that Zelda would never have expected Mary to do it. It made her want to keep antagonizing her just to see how far Mary would take it—but perhaps that would be a game better left for a later date, when they were more comfortable with one another and there was a stronger foundation of trust.

“Did I mention that I’ve been_ famished_ lately?” said Mary as she pulled Zelda’s legs farther apart and settled herself between them. “It’s a good thing I have a delicious meal right in front of me, here in my kitchen.”

Zelda keened as Mary put her mouth on her. She trembled while Mary gave special attention to her clit, swirling her tongue and pressing down _just so_. Forgetting the rule about keeping her hands on the counter, Zelda’s fingers went to work undoing Mary’s complicated updo.

Immediately, Mary stopped her ministrations, chuckling as Zelda positively whined in protest.

“What did I say about your hands?”

Giving one last disobedient tug at Mary’s curls, Zelda replaced her hands on the counter. But Mary didn’t immediately get back to work. Instead, she sunk her teeth into Zelda’s left thigh, sucking at the spot until it was sure to bloom into purple bruise.

“Please, Mary, no more teasing,” Zelda said, feeling lightheaded from being wound so tight with need. “Please.”

Mary returned to her sex with new fervor, using her teeth and tongue to bring Zelda to the very edge of climax, before she stopped once more. This time, however, Zelda didn’t have time to protest, as she was suddenly grabbed by the hips and hoisted onto the counter, with Mary pressing herself between her thighs.

They shared a fierce kiss for just a moment—Mary seeming to want to apologize for manhandling Zelda so suddenly—before two fingers were driven into Zelda’s core. After only three or four thrusts, Mary added a third finger, and pressed down hard on Zelda’s clit.

Zelda came so hard her vision went black. Her whole body went limp as Mary coaxed her through the aftershocks, placing a lingering kiss on Zelda’s pulse point as she did.

When Zelda finally seemed to have recovered, she grabbed Mary by the back of the head and brought her in for another demanding kiss. Pressing their foreheads together, she said, “That was incredible. Thank you.”

“I hope I wasn’t too rough,” said Mary, running her fingers over the bruise she’d left on Zelda’s thigh. “I didn’t mean to overstep with… anything. I got carried away.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” said Zelda, playing with Mary’s curls. “That was the best orgasm I’ve had in a long time. I’d love to return the favor.”

“I’d like that too,” Mary said with a smile, though it faltered slightly as she cast her gaze around the kitchen. “But maybe we could move this to a more…sanitary location?”

Zelda nodded in agreement. “I have no objections to a bed.”

Without warning, Mary lifted Zelda up and off the counter. Zelda marveled at how unexpectedly strong the school teacher’s arms were. Zelda’s legs shook as Mary set her back down on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Zelda said as she leaned on Mary for support. “I guess I might need a short… break.”

“That can be arranged,” said Mary, pushing a stray lock of Zelda’s hair behind her ear. “Why don’t we finish the cider you poured for us before I got…distracted?”

“Distracted?” said Zelda, lifting an eyebrow.

“What can I say?” said Mary, reaching for their abandoned mugs and passing one to Zelda. “There’s something so magic about you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: While it seems a bit silly to credit Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa as the owner of these characters, considering he himself stole/borrowed/recreated them, let's give it a go.
> 
> I do not own these characters. They belong to Archie Comics, which sent Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa himself a cease and desist for his blatant fanfic-turned-play, "Archie's Weird Fantasy," not too long ago. Please do not sue me; I am an unemployed adjunct professor writing fanfiction purely for entertainment purposes. I have very little money, but a whole lot of love for complicated female characters. While I do not wish to be sued, I would very much enjoy being given a position as show-runner for writing some great fanfic. I eagerly await your email.


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